


Lindor Treat

by SeedyGan (foreignobjecticus)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Belly Kink, LJ B7 Kink Meme Prompt Fill, M/M, PGP, PWP, Titty Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24980383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreignobjecticus/pseuds/SeedyGan
Summary: Filling the LJ B7 Kink Meme prompt: Blake has put on weight in his advancing years and Avon LOVES it.
Relationships: Kerr Avon/Roj Blake
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16





	Lindor Treat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Gauda Prime Social Club](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Gauda+Prime+Social+Club).



> I am trash and this fandom has taught me no shame. In my slow journey to fill in the kinkiest prompts in the LJ B7 Kink Meme, je vous présent another unbetaed, 5-hour job:  
> Blake has put on weight in his advancing years and Avon LOVES it.
> 
> Gifted to the GPSC without which I never would have had the guts to write/post this. You are all nasty people and I love you all.

Blake grunted as he dropped to the plush white bedcovers and bent to remove his shoes, finding – rather dishearteningly – that the task was becoming more and more difficult as the months flew by.

“Another week, another banquet,” a sleepy voice murmured from within the bedcovers, and Blake turned, digging through the cloud-like blankets until he uncovered the owner of the voice.

“It’s a harder job than you give me credit for, Avon,” Blake smiled a tired smile that only just managed to reach his eyes, crinkling his ever-fading scar. The past few years had seen the ex-bounty hunter’s mark fade to a pale crease across his eye, and although it was softened almost to nothing by Blake’s ever-rounder cheek, his eye still sat half-open and lazy. It closed perfectly when Blake leaned down to kiss the man swathed in soft, down-filled bedsheets.

“Oh it must be very difficult for you, Blake,” Avon purred, scattering kisses across Blake’s jaw and down his softening jowls to his tender, sensitive neck. “Sarkoff’s had you wining and dining three times this month. Surely you’ve worked out the terms of the new Lindor treaty by now?”

“I’m afraid not. You know Sarkoff,” Blake’s hands travelled across Avon’s bare shoulders, simultaneously rubbing at a tense knot while encouraging the darker man’s head further down his body. Avon’s kisses carried down Blake’s neck to his chest where, after a few buttons were roughly dealt with, Avon latched on to Blake’s nipple. “ _Ah_.”

“What about Sarkoff?” Avon paused long enough to ask before he resumed his gentle suckling.

“He, uh-” Blake gulped hard, finding it difficult to form the words as Avon’s tongue worked in tight little circles around his stiffening nipple. “He always wants to talk over cake and coffee and- _oh Avon-_ drinks and- and those stupid old Earth cigars.” Blake’s hand crept up as he was speaking and he carded his fingers through Avon’s soft hair, holding him against his breast. “Oh _please_ -”

“And you didn’t want cake?” Avon pulled off Blake’s hot, stiff nipple and blew on it, watching the sensitive flesh pucker under the cool air. He shoved aside the rest of Blake’s shirt and nuzzled against his fleshy chest, seeking out the other nipple between the voluminous folds. After a few tender sucks, it was already stiff, and Avon couldn’t resist giving it a little nip with his teeth.

“No-!” Blake jolted, fingers tightening in Avon’s hair and pulling him off his chest. “No, I didn’t.” He gulped again, face flushed both from the alcohol he’d drunk at the banquet and the heat of his rapidly growing arousal. Avon watched Blake’s thick neck pulse as he swallowed again involuntarily. “Play nicely,” he growled a warning and guided Avon back to his chest. “No, I couldn’t, and Sarkoff always gets so offended if I turn his hospitality down. _Oh darling, please_ -” Blake shivered as Avon’s warm hand travelled down his chest, pulling at the billowing shirt to untuck it, but came up against resistance as it refused to budge, pinched tight as it was between Blake’s trousers, belt and stomach. Blake shifted at the touch of Avon’s hand, leaning back to relieve the pressure around his middle so Avon could pull the shirt free. “I have to arrange to speak to him back on Earth and get him out of his comfort zone.”

“ _You_ looked very comfortable last time you dined with him,” Avon released Blake’s scarlet-red nipple and travelled further down, kissing the first nipple again on his way. He stopped at the apex of Blake’s belly, just above the naval, and pressed his lips across the flesh. Above him, Blake cleared his throat and blushed, leaning back to encourage Avon to move away from his straining middle. He could still feel the large banquet sitting heavy in his gut and squirmed, suddenly self-conscious at the sight of his exposed, bloated belly.

“Please, Avon, lower,” Blake pushed his lover’s head away from his mid-section with one hand while he tried vainly to unbuckle his belt with the other. But all he managed to do was fumble, unable to get a clear line of sight. It had become harder lately to find his buckle without looking – the soft flesh of his stomach had always poked out as a little muffin-top on him before, even when they used to run across the galaxy on the Liberator. Now, years of sedentary life in the New Terran High Council had taken its toll and what had been a modest bit of pudge on his middle had grown into a respectable roll, expanding his trousers out inch by inch until he’d reached the last notch on his belt. Even this he now strained to buckle in the morning when his stomach was empty and at its smallest. With the multiple political dinners he’d been obliged to attend of late, and their extended stay on Lindor, it made matters all the more worse and he couldn’t quite believe just how quickly he was packing it on. Blake tried valiantly to suck in his gut for Avon to undo the belt buckle, and when he managed it, the leather and metal sprang free with enough force to bark Avon’s knuckles.

“Damn!” he cried out, lifting his finger to his mouth and sucking the bruise. Blake was too embarrassed to offer his sympathies. Instead, bright red to the tips of his ears, he scrambled back up the bed and pulled his shirt across to hide his girth from them both.

“I’ve got to go get cleaned up,” he gathered himself up and rolled over the bed to stand but Avon lunged up, pinning Blake in place with his hands across the tops of his wide thighs.

“Blake, wait-” he pleaded, eyes turned up to stare, and Blake’s breath caught at the sight of the black eyes blown wide with lust. Slowly and carefully, Avon shifted up, and Blake’s gaze was drawn away momentarily by Avon’s lithe back muscles and toned backside slipping free of the bedsheets. _Someone_ at least seemed to not be affected by their host’s ingratiating hospitality, though the Terran High Councillor’s mate had far less qualms in missing a dinner engagement or two. Cat-like, Avon crawled his way up Blake’s body and drew the bulky man in for a deep, voracious kiss, sucking at Blake’s lips and forcing his tongue deep into his mouth. Blake moaned and Avon sucked his tongue, tasting the vaguest hint of berries, wine and the remnants of banquet dessert that Blake had obviously succumbed to despite his protestations. No wonder he was so obviously over encumbered now. As they kissed, Avon pushed aside the hands that held Blake’s shirt together, exposing his chest to the cool air. Avon groaned, pressing his obvious erection into the softness of Blake’s hip as he squeezed at a heavy, tender breast, palming the flesh and pinching at the nipple.

“Get these off,” he broke away and snarled into Blake's ear, and his hands pulled down on the trousers before Blake could respond. Blake’s own erection strained desperately against the front of his skin-tight trousers, giving Avon trouble as he tried to coax the zipper down. With a few rough tugs, it was free, and Blake lifted his hips to let Avon pull his clothes off, wrenching the lot down along with his boots.

"Get it off, every stitch, Blake," Avon growled, driven to near frenzy by the oceans of pale, creamy flesh laying exposed on the bed. Blake allowed his shirt to be torn from his arms roughly, but once he was free of clothes, self-consciousness came flooding back under Avon's gaze and he doubled up on himself, trying vainly to cover his flabby chest with his arms. Stroking himself, Avon was distracted long enough for the adrenaline of the moment to fade for Blake, along with his half-swollen cock. Avon's eyes opened fully and he lost some of the raw desperation in his look.

"What's wrong?" he let go of himself reluctantly and started to prise Blake's arms from his chest, but Blake stopped him with a terse word.

"Don't!"

Avon froze. Realising this wasn't a game, he dropped his hands.

"Don't be stubborn Blake. _What's wrong_?" his voice took on a hint of anger, frustrated at the unnecessary stalling.

"Nothing," the other replied back instantly, compulsively. It didn't fool Avon for a second. "I just don't feel like it tonight," he stammered on, but could tell he'd lost already.

“You always feel like it. What’s changed? Are you ill, have you already had yourself off for Sarkoff?”

“What!” Blake bellowed, glaring at Avon’s crass words. “No, of course not!”

“Then why are you denying me now? I need you Blake, I need to touch you,” Avon’s hands smoothed over the tops of Blake’s lightly-haired legs, coaxing them apart and gliding his fingers into the gap between the meaty thighs. “How can you just sit there looking like you do and not let me feel your body…”

"Yes, well,” he spread his legs involuntarily, “I've just come to the realisation that maybe I've... gotten a bit... unfit,” Blake stammered out, trying to circumnavigate the word that was on the tip of his tongue. As usual, it was Avon who said exactly Blake was avoiding.

“Because you’ve gotten fat?” he paused, head rising from where he was nuzzling Blake’s warm crotch, and Blake felt the blood rush to his face again and his rising interest deflate. All this blood moving from end to end couldn’t be good for him – no wonder he felt his heart beating so fast in his chest. “You’re really going to be a complete prude just because you’ve started filling out your stupid, billowing shirts?” Avon cried, completely serious and incredulous. “Really, Blake; your sense of self can be utterly insufferable sometimes- Oh, close your mouth, unless you want it filled.”

Blake’s jaw snapped shut and Avon looked disappointed.

“You didn’t have to do that _quite_ so enthusiastically.”

“…you really don’t care, do you?”

“About what?” he asked airily, deliberately being difficult.

“That I’ve…” Blake looked to his side, gestured, and shifted uncomfortably under the man sitting on his legs. “Well, what you said.”

Avon’s expression hardened and he favoured Blake with his best condescending glare. If he hadn’t been stark naked and rock solid across Blake’s thighs, his look could have matched the iciest glare he’d given on the flight deck all those years ago. Despite it, Blake couldn’t help bursting into a peal of laughter.

"You can't possibly! Avon, look at me! I-" but he cut himself off short. The glint in Avon's eyes spoke more than words, and the smile dropped from Blake’s face, replaced by a desperate earnestness. "You do?"

His arms went slack and Avon finally managed to pry them away.

"At the risk of sounding horrifically cliché,” the other man began, slapping Blake’s arms down to his sides with entirely too much force, “there is more of you to love. More to touch, grab, kiss, fuck..."

“And you’re not put off?”

“Do I have to spell it out to you, Blake?” Avon growled, snapping back to look at Blake with a glare that would have withered a lesser man.

“Oh,” Blake swallowed, his heart in his throat. “ _Please do_.”

Avon threw himself down on Blake bodily, claiming his neck with teeth and tongue, and he sucked and bit and licked his way down the front of Blake’s neck to his collarbone. Teeth scraped against the flesh above his bone and Avon bit again, bite marks deep and red in the skin, screaming hot. Blake shuddered and cried out, arching his back and toppling Avon off his overfull stomach, panting with the effort. Gasping again, he raised a hand to his neck to feel for blood but the skin was unbroken. He could feel an unsightly, indiscreet love bite already blossoming under his jaw.

Avon stroked his fingers over Blake’s bitten neck possessively, forcing a calmness he so rarely had to bother with. Blake usually let him have his way, and this stalling was torture. His hand trembled.

"Let me fuck you, please," he asked huskily, realising he’d have to be gentle. What had gotten into Blake was maddening.

“No,” Blake looked down over himself and then at Avon’s weeping cock, watching Avon playing with himself absently.

“ _No?_ ” His hand stilled.

"I'm- too full."

Avon's hand tightened on his cock as it dribbled a few salty drops of precome, and he bit his lip as if he'd swallowed down a genuine moan. Blake felt his eyebrows shoot up.

"You’re sick, Avon,” he gave the man a disgusted look but chuckled none-the-less, hips rising to meet the hand now hovering just inches above him. Blake pushed forward, straining up until he brushed Avon’s palm and short fingers curled around his shaft.

"You always knew I was,” Avon plunged his hand down, circling his fist tight. “Don’t play high and mighty now.” He squeezed with a punishing grip, holding Blake tight until the other man started to squirm in frustration. Only then did he loosen his fist and begin pumping long, firm strokes.

“Sick for joining your crusade, sick for hunting you to Gauda Prime, sick for staying with you through this political rigmarole.”

“Lovesick, more like,” Blake grinned, voice quiet and tight as he resisted the delicious sensation of Avon pumping his prick.

“Don’t push your luck. I’m in no mood to be gentle.”

Blake gave him a self-satisfied grin.

“And why’s that, then, hmm? _FUCK!_ ”

Avon’s response was vicious. He plunged his head into Blake’s crotch, lips wrapped bruisingly tight around the head of his cock and slid down, guiding Blake’s hot, stiff flesh well into the back of his throat. He kneaded Blake’s love handles, trying to hold him down as he bucked into his mouth, and Avon’s throat contracted in a practised motion as Blake thrashed harder. Thighs tensing, his balls jumped at the sucking pressure pulling him closer and closer to the edge-

“Avon, you bastard!” Blake cried out as his prick was suddenly exposed to the cold air, dropped callously to bounce and pulse against his soft gut. “What are you-”

But his protests were muffled as Avon scrambled up his body, legs splayed to expose himself, and he fed his weeping cock into Blake’s open mouth.

“Gods, yes, suck me,” Avon commanded, barely holding back his thrusts when Blake’s mouth obligingly surrendered. “Fuck your fist, Blake, squeeze it tight- _ah-_ ” Avon gasped, swallowed, and pulled out from the heat of Blake’s mouth, his mind barely able to think enough to determine whether he wanted to give in and splatter Blake’s face with his seed or hold on and come down his throat. “ _Not yet_.” He slapped Blake’s cheek lightly and grabbed his face, thumb curling into the side of his lover’s mouth.

“Kerr, ‘ _lease_ ,” Blake whined, tonguing and sucking Avon’s thumb. Avon groaned, resting himself back on Blake’s chest, sweaty balls and cock pressed between the mounds of his jiggling flesh. Releasing him, Avon gathered Blake’s breasts up between his hands and squeezed them together around his cock. It wasn’t much, admittedly, but for Avon’s purposes it was enough. Still, Blake was disgusted enough by his own corpulence that he stopped fisting his cock long enough to look outraged.

“You can’t do that-”

“Oh yes I can, and I am-” Avon’s eyes flashed wildly, beads of sweat running down his own flat stomach and into the hollows of his hips. “Open up.”

Despite his protests, Blake’s jaw dropped and the head of Avon’s cock slid over his lips, slick with salty pre-cum and drying saliva.

Avon grabbed Blake’s arm as he thrust, reaching around behind himself and guiding it down blindly until Blake got the hint and took himself in hand once more. Avon slid his own hand up, grasping the last two inches of cock that Blake couldn’t quite handle. Slicking the pre-cum over his palm, he held the head tight and twisted in opposition to Blake’s strokes.

“I’ve thought about fucking your tits since I saw you on Horizon,” Avon admitted through clenched teeth, rubbing himself down hard and faster, crushing his balls against Blakes’ chest and plunging himself further and further into the accommodating mouth with rapidly-deteriorating control.

Beneath him, Blake breathed little sucking gasps and moans around his cock, and Avon felt Blake buck and tense, throat constricting as he surged over the edge. Thick, hot streams of cum shot out across his stomach and the top of Avon’s arse, coating his heaving belly as he cried out around Avon’s swollen cock.

Numbed by his aftershocks, Blake’s tongue did little more than glide up the underside of Avon’s cock as he tried vaguely to finish his lover off, feeling Avon pulse and swell at the very edge of his own release. Blake closed his lips over the straining flesh and tried to suck, but instead, the cock pulled out, caressed by wet lips as it went. Avon’s hands shot up to cradle his heavy balls, biting his lower lip, his hand working his shaft in furious blur while he came hard and fast across Blake’s breasts, neck and chin.

When the final drops had seeped from his cock and across his white knuckles, Avon finally collapsed, eyes closed, and sank onto the small patch of clean flesh on Blake’s upper stomach. Winded, he turned his head and idly licked at the salty sweet skin, tongue dancing over where ribs would be. On his own body, Avon felt Blake’s hand caress his prominent ribs and he shuddered at the touch, feeling tender and overstimulated.

Beyond a few half-hearted, exploratory gropes, Blake could do little more. Covered in rapidly cooling cum, he lay there, heaving, panting and feeling utterly obscene.

Having caught enough breath to speak, Blake pulled himself upright so he could look at the man splayed across his stomach.

“You really do like it, then?” he asked quietly. Avon chuckled.

“Was the message not clear enough?”

“You’re utterly unbelievable,” Blake chided lightly, a hand drifting down to his lover’s much more dainty waist. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it was rather obvious.”

The larger man laughed and rolled his eyes. Of course Avon thought he was being obvious… He’d never said or done anything to indicate he was interested until all of a sudden he was all over Blake and fucking his tits with wild abandon. If Blake hadn’t know the man for so many years already, he’d think he were being played for a fool. The thoughts washed over him slowly. But sluggish as he was in the haze of afterglow, he still had enough brain power to use the situation to his advantage. And now Avon was sated, Blake knew his sharp tongue would be abandoned.

“And what would you say,” he began, schooling his face so he didn’t betray himself, “if I were to tell you I needed a new belt?”

At that, Avon pressed his face into Blake’s stomach and groaned.

“Don’t test me, Blake. You have a diplomatic visit to conduct. I’d keep you chained to the bed and fuck you all week if I could.”

“Yes, and I suppose you’d rather I was out there attending all the luncheons and dinners I could find?”

Avon’s head shot up and he tried to freeze Blake with an intense glare, but the effect was greatly diminished by his own flushed cheeks and ruddy, fuck-swollen lips. His face fell when he saw it wasn’t working, and he practically wailed when Blake’s lips curled into a wicked smile.

“You’re going to hold this against me forever, aren’t you?”

“Well it’s hardly a passing fancy, is it? You can pull out toys or whips and chains whenever you please, but this,” Blake tilted his head vaguely downwards, “this is a bit more permanent.”

“You could lose it if you wanted to,” Avon replied haughtily and turned his head over so he didn’t have to look at Blake.

“Would I want that, Avon? I don’t fancy starving myself, and I can’t imagine _when_ I’d have the time for exercise. Beyond a roll in the hay, I suppose.” Blake ran his thick fingers through Avon’s hair, ruffling the sweaty strands up and scratching his scalp. Slowly, Avon’s shoulders relaxed, but he didn’t turn back over.

Together, they laid in silence until Blake’s head had cleared properly and he remembered what he was going to complain about before he’d been ravaged by his overenthusiastic lover.

“Sarkoff’s invited us to dinner again next week.” Blake huffed, pushing his stomach out as he breathed deeply, causing Avon’s head to rise and fall. Gratifyingly, he felt a smile curl across Avon’s lips and they pressed into his belly as he turned to look up past the mounds of breasts into Blake’s face. From this angle, with his jowls squished to stare down his chest, Blake looked positively enormous. On anyone else, Avon thought wickedly, it would be an unflattering angle, but on Blake…

“Well now,” Avon rose on his elbows and let a hand slide down to cup the underside of Blake’s belly and squeeze fondly. “Perhaps I’d better come along this time, make sure you fill out…”

“The terms of the treaty?” Blake supplied with a cocked eyebrow and a lop-sided smile. Avon purred.

“ _Obviously_.”


End file.
